Jill of All Trades
by FrumiousBandersnatch10
Summary: Emma has many skills. Regina learns how Emma acquired them, and so much more about why she really gave into the Darkness. Post 5A character study, assuming Emma keeps the Darkness. Hints of OQ, pre-SQ. T for language. Dialogue heavy. Sequel up.


Disclaimer: I do not own OUaT. Also, I have no Beta, so all errors are mine. I ship SQ, but that is pretty low-key here in favor on addressing Emma's character in 5A.

Jill of All Trades

Regina watched from her window as Emma wiped the sweat from her brow and nodded, obviously satisfied with her work. Of course, in wiping away the sweat, she had succeeded in smearing dirt on her face. She didn't notice. Dusting off her hands, though it didn't help, Emma made her way to the back door. She froze, looked off into the distance for a time, then turned back to the door. She kicked off her muddy shoes and slipped inside.

Regina turned just as Emma entered the kitchen. "You've been busy," Regina chimed.

Emma shrugged. "Bored. I've been feeling restless for awhile."

"I can tell. Yesterday you checked every single pipe in my house in the name of fixing a single, very small leak. Today, you've valiantly pulled out anything even resembling a weed in the garden." Regina cocked her head. Emma was staring off into space again. "There was no need."

Emma turned her gaze back to Regina and crossed her arms defensively. "I wanted to."

Regina smiled a small, gentle smile. "I know. I appreciate it. But I also know that you've got a list a mile long of things to do around my house so that you can avoid your family."

"I'm not putting anything off. You need help around here. I'm gonna change the light bulbs next. It's important. You're too short to do it without a stool."

"I also have magic. I can change them with the wave of my hand."

"Don't!" Emma snapped her mouth shut. She pursed her lips, looking away for a moment before turning back to Regina's puzzled gaze. "I… sorry. I just, ah, I'm just gonna wash up. Henry awake yet? What about Robin and Roland?" She didn't wait for the answer, trotting off to the bathroom.

Regina followed. Knowing better than to ask about Emma's sudden outburst, she changed tactics. "Where did you learn to fix the pipes, if you don't mind?" Regina asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Emma didn't look up, focusing her attention on her hands as she washed. "Ah, I was about fifteen. I was in a group home. Mr. Mason ran the place, and he insisted we all develop _life skills_. Taught all of us kids a lot. And by all I mean the four or five of us there at the time. Everything from fixing a leaky pipe to changing a tire. That reminds me. You are due for an oil change. If you pick some up, I can do that for you. He taught me that, too."

Regina smiled. "And did he teach you how to cook?" It was meant to be a quip since Emma seemed to be allergic to helping in the kitchen.

But the blonde froze, hands unmoving under the steady stream of water. "No," she said softly, so softly. "Not really." She was quiet for a long moment, but Regina allowed it, choosing to watch Emma as the blonde stared blankly at her hands.

Emma turned suddenly, soap still on her hands. She looked with Regina with empty green eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it snap. She finished washing her hands, and only then seemed to notice the smudge on her forehead. "I'm gonna go for a walk. Be back in a bit."

Emma's walk into the woods—she had yet to walk into Storybrooke proper—lasted the entire day. It was well after midnight before she returned. Regina considered going to her, but instead slipped into bed. Robin was asleep and didn't notice. Regina didn't mind.

The following morning, while she was making breakfast, Regina noticed that all of the bulbs had been changed, even those that did not need replaced.

-JoAT-

Regina opened the oven door, ready to slide the lasagna inside to bake, when she noticed it. The inside of the oven had been scrubbed. She might have thought it was new had she not used that very oven for thirty years. She'd always kept it in good condition, but as with all appliances, it showed signs of use. Now it was immaculate.

"Emma," she murmured to herself.

She would have to do something for the younger woman. She would also have to talk to her. Emma could not continue to do these things out of her warped sense of guilt. Gratitude for providing room and board, she could understand. But Regina knew that was not the case.

Of course, talking to her was a trial itself. Since their last conversation about her group home, Regina had no seen her for more than seconds, and had not been close enough to her to even offer a basic greeting.

Well, she could wait. Emma lived with her. Regina was sure they would talk soon.

-JoAT-

Dressed to impress, as always, Regina walked out to her car. She sat primly, started her Mercedes, went to back out and stopped. She sniffed. She sniffed again. She looked around. She'd always taken care of her car, but now she smelled remnants of a cleaning solution. She parked, slid out of her seat and examined her car. The small scratch from when Robin bumped into it with his bow had been buffed out, and a fresh coat of wax had been applied.

"Emma," Regina groaned. She really needed to talk to her. Shame she never saw her anymore, even with her room just down the hall.

-JoAT-

Exhausted from a long day's work, Regina decided to visit her apple tree. It had been too long since she had the opportunity to be at peace with that part of herself and her life. Not by herself at least. Nowadays, Robin was always with her. Looking after Roland and his daughter was trying on the man, but he always tried to be with Regina when she was home. That meant that, if she wanted a moment alone, she had to take it before he knew she was home.

Slipping out back, she saw several pieces of furniture. They were varied, a few chairs, a table, an old dresser. Stepping closer, she noted that all had been sanded (she could see the dust on the ground), stained and properly sealed. They were the exact shade she would have chosen if she had done this herself.

Smiling, Regina went inside and wrapped her arms around Robin's waist. He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss.

"What is this for, My Lady?"

"I saw your work outside. Thank you."

Robin smiled crookedly. "I would say you are welcome, but I would be speaking for another. I did not do that, though I did offer to help. I promised to be a quick study but was denied."

Regina sighed. "Emma?"

"Emma," he answered.

She was really going to have to do something about this. She was tired of this game, whatever it was.

-JoAT-

Emma was nearly impossible to catch, but eventually Regina outsmarted her. Rather, she filled a thermos full of coffee and sat in the dark, waiting for Emma to slip in after one of her _walks_.

She'd even taken the precaution of sending Robin and his children out on a camping trip with Henry. Robin had been very confused, but trusted her to know what she was doing.

By three in the morning, just as Regina was about to give in and go to bed, the doorknob began to turn. Slowly and so gently Regina could have imagined it. The door opened silently—Emma must have oiled it so that the slight creak Regina remembered would not wake anyone.

She waited for the softy click of the door to prove Emma was inside the house before she reached over and turned the lamp on. Emma froze, caught at last. She looked up, green eyes wide and well aware that there was no escape.

"I do believe it is time we had a chat," Regina said softly. "You can't keep using routine maintenance in my house as a reason not to speak to the rest of your family."

"Maybe tomorrow, Regina, we don't to wake anyone."

She shook her head. "Robin took them camping," she answered easily.

Emma's shoulders slumped. "Tomorrow. Please. I need… time. Please. This won't be easy."

Regina nodded slowly. "Robin is due back at noon. I will call him in the morning and let him know to keep the children out for the weekend. We _will_ talk, Emma. You are not to leave again, not until you've dealt with whatever is going on in that head of yours."

Emma nodded, eyes on the floor. She ascended the stairs and didn't look back. Regina let her. Emma would talk to her. She was sure of it.

Exhaustion crept under her skin and settled in her bones. Rubbing her neck, Regina went to her own room. She set her alarm. Four hours wasn't a lot, but it would be enough.

-JoAT-

When all was said and done, four hours had not been nearly enough.

Regina woke and completed her morning ablutions before going downstairs. Emma was already there. More, Emma was cooking. A rich, hardy breakfast of sausage gravy, potatoes and toast. Puzzled, Regina leaned against the counter and watched. She knew Emma, really knew her, and knew to wait. Whatever Emma was going to share, she could not be pushed, not yet.

"Eggy in the basket," she said suddenly. Regina nodded. She was familiar with the dish. It was Henry's favorite. "That's how I knew something was off in New York. I made it for Henry at least once a week. I mean, I felt wrong because I cooked a lot in general. I had these memories of cooking for Henry and when we moved to New York. It felt wrong, but I remembered doing it for years at that point, so I just kept doing it.

"Eggy in the basket should have been what tipped the scale though. It didn't because part of me was so used to it, but I never felt right. Henry liked it. The first time I made it—really made it, not just the memories you gave me of it—Henry said it tasted different than usual, but he liked the new recipe better. And wasn't that funny, because I made it the same way in my memories. He's asked for it a few times since we've been back, and I always pushed it off on Snow."

There was something oddly heart wrenching about Emma calling her mother by name. But since the Darkness, Emma had not been able to call her anything else.

"I liked cooking. I had a nice family when I was nine. I was only there for a few weeks before they died in a car accident, but it was enough. The mom there, her name was Antonia but we called her Tony, was a chef. We all helped cook. I was in charge of the salad my first night. I had to cut the lettuce, the tomatoes, grate the cheese, peel the carrots—that was my first time using a knife."

The two sat at the table and began to serve themselves.

"It was only three weeks, but she taught me the basics. She taught me to make a mean grilled cheese, too." Emma sighed. "After she died, I wanted to keep it going, so I talked to all of the foster parents about helping with dinner. Some thought it was great because it was less for them to do. Others thought it was a waste of time because they lived on fast food and didn't have anything for me to cook. One family beat the hell of out me for insulting them. I guess they thought I was saying I could do it better. But they took everything personally. Luckily, I wasn't there long. I did what I do best and got the hell out of Dodge."

Regina savored the dish. She had no idea that Emma was such a talent in the kitchen. Still, the story was more enthralling than the food. She wondered where this tale would lead them, and how it would explain why Emma would not speak to anyone except Regina.

"That was my last home before Ingrid. After her, I took off and lived on the streets for a few weeks before they picked me up and took me to Mr. Mason's group home. He, uh, he always took the delinquents. Made us into civilized children. His policy was that kids needed work to keep out of trouble. The home was on a farm, so we stayed busy.

"My first night there, I got my only free meal. Everyone was just sitting there. I mean, no one said a word. Not even to ask to pass the salt. One kid, his name was Brandon, was just sitting there, looking like was going to break down and cry at any minute and watching everyone eat. His plate was empty.

"The next morning, Mr. Mason explained the rules. I had a list of chores. If I didn't do them, or if I broke any rules, I wouldn't eat. Brandon didn't finish his last chore before dinner was called. Everything he did, and because he didn't have time to finish moving the last ten bricks to the other side of the yard, he couldn't eat."

Emma hadn't taken a single bite, just moved the food around on her plate. She glanced up, eyes going to the far corner of the room briefly before turning to her plate.

"Food was always his punishment. Breakfast was toast and lunch was a sandwich and both were small and never enough for you to feel full, so dinner was the meal to have. And he always made you watch everyone else eat, made you sit at the table and see it and smell it and know you weren't going to get any. I saw a lot of kids sabotaging others' chores so we could get more. There was only so much food, and if one of us didn't eat the rest got his share. We all hated each other but none of us told our caseworkers."

She was silent for a time as the two of them ate. Or rather, as Regina ate and Emma continued to push her food around.

"He had to look good," Emma said absently. "Had to parade us around for the public while we turned against one another in private. Every Sunday, after church, he publicly taught us something. Of course, the more you learned, the more chores you had. I was too slow to figure that out. I was such a damn fool. I wanted to learn. I hated school because I don't learn that way. I can't just sit at a desk and listen to someone yammer on about stuff in the most boring way possible. I learn by doing. And Sunday lessons? I inhaled them. Like and idiot.

"The first thing he showed me was how to change a tire. He laughed at the time. Thought I wouldn't be able to lift the tire to change it. In the end, I did it perfect. He showed me one time and that was it, and I changed the second all on my own. That pissed him off. So he taught me to change the oil. And the spark plugs. And the oil filter. And the lights. By the end of my first Sunday, I could do pretty much any routine maintenance needed.

"So the next week, he taught me about detailing a car. About cleaning the inside and waxing and all of that. I was good enough that looking after his car became my responsibility every Sunday.

"But I was pretty self sufficient at that point. One of my foster mothers was a clean freak, and she'd bitch all of us out if we messed anything up, so the cleaning came pretty easy. It helped that I figured out how to keep the others from sabotaging me. I had all these tricks that I taught them to get their chores done faster so the other kids never messed with me. There was another reason, but I'll get to that.

"Anyway, I always got my stuff done. I did the work on the car, I did my share of cleaning. I learned to fix leaks, to sand and stain and seal furniture, to change the guts in a toilet, to move furniture without scuffing the floor, to fix a garage door, to wire a socket and hell, I even learned how to make a lamp.

"But Brandon. Fucking Brandon. He was tall, so I thought he was like fifteen, but he was twelve, and he was starving and I couldn't just let that happen. It was every man for himself but that kid almost never got dinner because he was such a fuck up.

"And I could cook. I loved cooking. It was nice. I could just cook and some of my tasks were assigned to the other kids, so I had less and unless it was Sunday, I was pretty much guaranteed dinner.

"So I helped Brandon with his chores and got him to the table on time. But Mr. Mason said I wasn't helping him because he would never learn if I did everything for him. Brandon got to eat, but I went hungry in his place.

"Helping one another was unheard of there. It was taboo, but I did it. Damn, I sat at that table and watched them eat the dinner I made and Brandon wouldn't even look me in the eye while he scarfed everything down. But the next day? I helped Brandon again. Then I cooked them all dinner and watched them eat it while my stomach gnawed at me. The third day, though, I had a plan.

"Mr. Mason always had a good breakfast. We got toast, but he always had a full meal. One I cooked. I burned it." Emma looked up, a dark gleam in her eyes. "Eggy in the basket was his favorite, and you know damn well that one side was pristine and the other was charred." Emma chuckled. "I got the hell beat out of me when he realized I did it on purpose. The one side was too pretty for the other to have been an accident."

Regina had long since finished her meal, but now her stomach churned.

"He watched me in the kitchen. I still helped Brandon. He knew it, they all knew it. So I almost never ate dinner. Never ate any of the food I cooked. But the other kids started smuggling me stuff. We started working together. Not openly. I was the only idiot who did that. But on the off chance I actually got dinner and someone else took the hit, I always got them food and they took to doing the same for me. Not Brandon. The others helped, but never him.

"I was there for, what? Four months? Long enough to learn the basics of pretty much all my handyman skills. Then I ran. I was so sick of a broken system that only made things worse for me. I ran before I turned sixteen and never looked back. I met Neal, got locked up and had Henry. But damn. Over forty placements in sixteen years. And I was with the Swans for three." She became very quiet then, her food long cold.

"Thank you, Emma," Regina said softly. There wasn't much more to say. She knew too well how little sympathy meant. She would not apologize—it would not mean anything. There was nothing she could do but listen, especially since it seemed no one else had.

And she did.

Next they moved to the living room, and Emma started from the beginning. She talked about her vague memories of the Swans and how they gave her up when they found out they were having a child of their own. She talked about being taken to a new home with people she didn't know and crying and crying until they locked a small, frightened child in the basement to drown out her wailing, but only making it worse.

She talked about wearing hand-me-down clothes covered in stains and holes. She talked about the older kids taking her food. She talked about having to steal to eat sometimes, and how she was never given sweets. She talked about the one time a foster family thought it would be funny to go on a road trip and pack Emma in the trunk of their car with their suitcases.

She talked about she had to go to a drug rehab center when she was thirteen because her foster family thought it would be smart to test their drugs on her, and the addiction stuck. She talked about paying for her habit on her back and when she was finally clean after being locked up for a year, how she vowed never to touch the stuff again.

How, when she got out of rehab and was in a foster home where the parents used, she ran as far and as fast as she could. That was how she met Lilly, how she was caught and taken to Ingrid's.

She talked about how she used to have a sketchbook and would draw and draw and draw, how she wanted to be an artist, but kids in the system fall between the cracks. She whispered how, before Henry came for her, she was saving up for a college so she could get a degree, maybe give up bounty hunting. For hours, she talked about her life in the foster system, of her broken homes and her broken life and how she herself was simply broken and Regina could not tell her she was wrong.

Then the rambling, one-sided conversation became darker, though Regina had not thought it possible.

"There are so many of them," she said absently, staring at the wall. "Dark Ones. And they all talk to me about different things. They each have their favorite subject. Usually it's whatever led to them becoming the Dark one. It's like, Zoso became the Dark One to get vengeance against his parents, so he focuses on Snow and David.

"He's not around a lot, but damn, he's good. He never really talks, but I would be working on a dreamcatcher, and the next thing I know, he's standing beside me and I'm watching some moment with Snow and David. I got to see my birth and David putting me in the wardrobe. Did you know they talked about me coming back to save them, that David told me to find them, but they never said they loved me? You already know David was going to build himself a tree house and be Tarzan in Neverland. And Snow was just… going to stay with him. Never mind that she just got her daughter back. No, her husband was so much more important than the child she threw away. I gave up so much for Henry, so much more than Snow and David ever even thought of giving up for me."

Regina winced at her words, unable to find the lie in them. Perhaps because they were the truth.

"That was how Rumplestiltskin got to me. He whispered to me how Henry liked Neal more than me, thought he was a better person than me. Hero-worshipped him. Then he giggled and talked about Neal setting me up to take the fall for his crime, and Henry still choosing Neal over me. I told Henry that Neal was a hero because I didn't want him to know his father was a coward and a liar and a traitor, and he blamed me for…"

Emma rubbed her face. She pressed her hands over her ears for a moment before gripping her hair in frustration. "I argued. Henry didn't know the whole story, it was okay, I wasn't angry. But Rumplestiltskin knew. Of course he knew. It hurt. And he would twist my heart a little more every chance he got. He giggled over Henry liking Snow and Charming. They were the perfect heroes, so of course Henry liked them more. They only time he wanted me was when the Savior was needed, and after Zelena, he had you so he didn't need me anymore.

"But God, the worst was when he took your name back. I mean, he's Henry Mills, and he deserves that name. You're his mother. You raised him. I won't take him from you. I wanted to take him away from Storybrooke where everyone is related and no one is safe, but I also knew that while I could talk about it, I could never actually do that, not to you.

"But for a year, he was Henry Swan. He had memories of being Henry Swan for a lifetime. He was Henry Swan in New York. But when he got his memories back, he went back to being Henry Mills, and didn't even say a word to me. He didn't warn me, didn't offer to be Swan-Mills, or Mills-Swan or anything. He chose you over me."

Regina remembered that. At the time, she'd been so very pleased that her son chose her. She'd never considered the woman who'd known little other than rejection and betrayal.

"And I don't blame him but Regina, it hurt. I spent the money I was saving for college to get him the best clothes and game systems and anything he wanted. I made him eggy in the basket, even though I hadn't made it since Mr. Mason beat the shit of me for burning his. Neal, the Charmings, you. My own son never chose me unless he needed the Savior. It was always everyone else because they were always somehow better than the woman who gave him up so he would never be in foster care, never be shuffled from one home to the next, never have to wonder if he would get dinner that night."

Emma laughed, the sound taking on a hysterical edge.

"They won't stop. If I stay busy, they quiet down, but they never leave. I was so desperate for Merlin to be free, to take the Darkness, to make the voices go away, that anything seemed like a good idea. They whispered that he was only thirteen, it was just a crush, he and Violet were doomed anyway because we would go home and Violet would stay in Camelot. Breaking his heart wouldn't matter in the long run, not with Merlin free and the voices gone and Henry stronger for it.

"It was Nimue's idea to take Violet's heart. And Rumplestiltskin was right there, giggling about how it was only a matter of time before he chose Violet over me, just like he chose everyone else. Zoso pretty much guaranteed I'll never go near Snow or David as their daughter again—seriously, not one single _I love you_ or _good luck_ before shoving me in that wardrobe—so I couldn't go to them. You and Belle were off in the tower, and Hook was helpful, but sometimes he was off doing I don't know what with Robin. So it was me and them and I just wanted the voices to stop.

"I told myself it was okay because I gave her heart back after I told her what to do. I think she did it because she was afraid. God, I'm a horrible person. But I was so twisted up in my head. They wouldn't stop talking, and they were turning me against everyone—and they did it using the truth, damn them—that I just did what they said.

"And the worst part? They were proud of me." A tear slipped down Emma's cheek. "They told me I did the right thing, that it wouldn't matter, and damn if I didn't start wanting their approval because at least they gave it to me instead of making more demands. I think part of me will always be that little girl that wants to be loved, that wants a family, wants to be chosen. I watched all these other kids get families. All I got was a drug habit, trust issues, emotional baggage and some life skills. I will say this for Mr. Mason. He was an ass, but he taught me a lot. And at least he looked me in the eye."

The silence was heavy after that. Regina didn't know what to say. She'd thought Emma had turned to the Darkness because of Hook. In a way that was true. That was the final straw. Regina hadn't known that Emma had been lost in the downward spiral toward Darkness long before she became the Dark One. Hook chose death over her, and she couldn't bear to think death was a better fate than life with her. Darkness began with hopelessness, after all. Regina knew that well.

"I can't face them," Emma said, voice coarse and hushed. "Snow. David. Henry. I can't talk to them, not right now. I can't. You're right. Working so hard keep them voices quiet, but I am helping you so I can avoid them. I need to earn their trust back but…part of me doesn't want to. Part of me doesn't want to work so hard just for him to choose someone else. Again. And Snow and David already have their replacement child. I just…can't deal with them right now. Give me time? Please? Let me just keep fixing things that don't need to be fixed around here until I can control myself? So I can be sure I won't hurt them the way I hurt?"

Regina didn't speak, knowing that words were useless at this point. Instead, she reached out and took Emma's hand, squeezing it gently in support.

Emma gave her a shaky smile. "They hate you. Absolutely hate you. They've been trying to get me to kill you for weeks."

Regina paused. "And what do they say about me?"

"That you make me weak and you'll destroy me. That you'll never pick me. That Robin will always be more important, like in Camelot when I needed to avoid magic and you asked me to save him. Nimue really hates you. Normally she only talked about Hook—it was her idea to tie him to the sword to keep him from leaving me—but she talks about you too.

"I can always tell when you fall asleep." She was staring at the wall. "They get louder. Excited. They know you can't talk me down, so they speak up. I haven't hurt anyone, but I have done… stuff. I popped over to the loft one night. You crashed early, but David and Snow were up and they were talking about how happy they were to have gotten those six weeks of Neal's life back."

Emma shook her head, mouth twisting in disdain. "They missed twenty eight years of mine, but the real tragedy was missing six weeks of a kid they barely spent any time with. So I took him. I take him all the time. But he likes me. I walk with him all night. I wait for you and David and Snow to be asleep and I go get him and walk around the woods and talk. It helps with the colic. Not that they know he has it. They think he sleeps like a rock. I get him back when they wake up. They never know he's gone. Or if they do, they don't care. Not sure which is worse.

"But fuck if they'll let me anywhere near him when they're awake. Last week Snow kept droning on about wanting a date night and not having anyone to watch him since you and Robin had the new baby to look after. I offered to watch him. She was real quick to tell me that she wasn't ready to part with him yet. It was a terrible lie, even if I hadn't heard her talking before, because she leaves Neal alone all the time."

There was that awful silence again, and Regina had nothing to say. Or rather, plenty to say, but none of her words were for Emma. There was a lot to be said to Snow and Charming, and maybe a few gentle admonishments to Henry, but really she wanted to have words with the Darkness that tormented a woman who only wanted her family.

"So." Emma interrupted. "I was thinking I could build you a deck. You have a little porch, but I think a deck would be nice."

"I take it Mr. Mason taught you to build one?"

"Nope. I worked odd jobs when I got out of jail. I lived in my car, so I took any work I could get so I could eat. He taught me to appreciate food, remember? I learned a bit about some basic carpentry when I was twenty. Not long after that I was able to save up just enough to get an apartment and get a real job. I'll tell you about it sometime?" The words were heavy, but her voice was light, tentative.

Regina smiled for her. "I would love to hear it."

"Cool," she murmured in reply.

"And I would love a deck. Perhaps you could teach Henry?" She offered softly.

Emma's smile dropped and she shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe. If he wants. I'm not gonna force him. I'm still not really ready for that. The voices are still there, you know? Still talking about everyone." She gave a shaky smile. "I can't always ignore them."

The queen smiled. "When you are ready, dear. Why don't you go take some measurements, get some ideas for that deck, and I'll make dinner?"

"You don't have to. I can cook. I should probably get back in the habit."

"It's fine. I'll see to dinner. It will quiet them, won't it? Cooking would only be more fuel for their fire right now. Go, I can handle dinner for two quiet well."

Emma grinned, eyes glistening with faint relief, and was gone in a swirl of smoke. Exhausted, Regina trudged to the kitchen to begin making dinner. She wondered how Emma would do, how she would fair against the voices.

Later, Emma bounded in with several sketches for the deck. She rambled about designs and supports and colors and so much more. Watching her, Regina couldn't help but think that the voices must be silent, because Emma's eyes shone brilliantly in the light while she talked about plans. It was the first time in a long time that she looked like herself.

Four hours of sleep had not been nearly enough for the burden Emma shared with her, but it was worth it. Emma was worth it. And, Regina decided, it was high time someone chose her.

A/N: Emma's descent was poorly done and not at all moving or true to Emma's character. This, I hope, provides more depth. I am not justifying her fall, nor do I condone her choices; her actions with Hook were unforgivable, not romantic. I am merely giving it a more believable explanation.

And, while Henry is much beloved, Henry is a kid and thinks and acts like one. We saw him reject Emma over Neal, and I do not believe he ever learned the truth of how they parted ways. Also, it was never acknowledged that he was Henry Swan for a year, that he has two sets of memories (when the first curse broke, it was canon that everyone remembered both lives), yet essentially rejected Emma's name. As someone who only ever wanted a family, this would be damaging to her.

Question? Comments? Concerns?

Bandy


End file.
